


A Dwindling Flame

by peblezQ



Series: Hamilton Week - Lams Birthday Bash [8]
Category: 18th Century CE RPF, American Revolution RPF, Hamilton - Miranda, Historical RPF
Genre: Affairs, Angst, Bisexual Alexander Hamilton, Bittersweet Ending, Canon Era, Depression, Domestic Fluff, Eliza Schuyler and Martha Manning Laurens are mentioned, Established Relationship, Gay John Laurens, Historical Accuracy, Hurt/Comfort, I am terrible, I try my best to be historically accurate, I'm Going to Hell, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Jealousy, Lams - Freeform, Lams Birthday Bash, M/M, Marriage, My First Smut, Non-Graphic Smut, Prompt Fic, Resentment, Secret Relationship, Smut, Suicide Attempt, john is depressed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-06
Updated: 2021-01-06
Packaged: 2021-03-17 13:27:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28600674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peblezQ/pseuds/peblezQ
Summary: Hamilton finally manages to visit Laurens in Philadelphia during November of 1780. They refuse to admit that their relationship be strained due to an extended time apart. Hamilton had proposed to Miss Elizabeth Schuyler whilst Laurens remained as a prisoner of war, confined to the bounds of Philadelphia, and consumed by his lingering melancholy.Prompt #8 - Marriage
Relationships: Alexander Hamilton/John Laurens
Series: Hamilton Week - Lams Birthday Bash [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2086494
Comments: 21
Kudos: 52
Collections: Lams Birthday Bash





	A Dwindling Flame

**Author's Note:**

> I stayed up to write this. I fell asleep at some point while writing this. I put a considerable amount of effort into this one 😅
> 
> This takes place in the same universe as my one-shot A Jealous Lover (this fic also functions as a sequel to that fic). You don't have to read that one first to understand this, but it might be a fun read anyway. [Link to A Jealous Lover: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28382427 ]
> 
> Also, I hope all of my American readers are staying safe in these scary times. The news is utterly atrocious and it is breaking my heart! I hope y'all enjoy this - let it help you stay a bit calm. 😊

Laurens sits on an armchair in the parlour, the room taunting him with a wide assortment of furniture, even though he may be doomed to sit here alone. He takes a languid sip of the whiskey in the crystalline cup and examines the intricate details engraved on the glass. 

His hand is still wrapped in gauze from the incident whence he broke the other glass in the set a week prior. He squeezes the cup, wondering offhandedly if he could crush the glass in his hand by sheer will. _Who needs another glass when he can drink straight from the bottle?_ It felt good to break something, to feel something again after feeling the icy numbness consume him after reading _that letter._

He puts the glass down when he hears a knocking upon his door. He stands up and waves off Annie who scurries with her skirts pulled up. She bows and retreats, leaving him to open the door on his own. 

Laurens stares stoically at Hamilton who beams up at him with his suitcase in his hand. "Laurens, it is wonderful to see you again!" His uniform is clean and tidy and Laurens feels a wave of nausea at the thought of his own uniform collecting dust upstairs. Hamilton must have taken a carriage over since his clothes are not dusty from the roads. "Your hair is shorter. Did you have it cut?" 

Laurens forces a brief smile before allowing Hamilton to enter. "How was the ride?" Laurens asks conversationally, closing the door behind Hamilton. He ignores the mention of his hair. He tries to not think on his time down south, when the British held him and his men captive. He does not think of when he had stood up for his men and faced the consequences for it. He does not think of his hair any longer. 

Hamilton rolls from the heel of his feet to the tips of his toes, back and forth, as he examines the home. "Oh, you know. It was quite typical." Hamilton side-eyes Laurens with an innocent-looking grin. "So, where shall I leave my belongings?" 

Laurens haphazardly shoves his hands in his coat pockets, nodding silently to the staircase. "Follow me." 

Laurens turns and walks up the stairs, not waiting to see if Hamilton is, in fact, still following him. Laurens misses the way Hamilton stares quizzically at his wrapped up hand as he follows him. Laurens watches the door to his bed-chamber as he reaches the top of the stairs, feeling a wave of weariness. He opts to open the guest room directly across the hall and gestures to the open door. 

Hamilton enters and gazes at the room. He places his trunk down and runs his hands along the smooth wooden posts of the large bed. He turns around, smiling shyly at Laurens. "Much better than the cots we have slept in." 

Laurens hums and nods once. "I will leave you to make yourself comfortable. My room is directly across the hall if you require my assistance for anything." 

Hamilton's smile drops instantaneously. "Across the hall?" 

"Mhmm," Laurens hums with a sluggish nod. 

Hamilton studies the bed, his lips pinched and the muscles in his jaw visibly tensing. "I see…" 

Laurens nods again, unable to do anything coherent in his clouded state of mind. He may have had too much to drink before Hamilton arrived; he plans to finish the bottle once he leaves the room. 

"Does anyone else stay here?" Hamilton asks carefully. 

Laurens shakes his head. "Annie and Harold come to cook and clean. They leave after supper is served and arrive for breakfast in the morning. Tis only you and I staying here as of now." 

Hamilton furrows his brows. "Oh." 

Laurens looks out the door, ready to flee. Before he can move, Hamilton shuffles over to close the door carefully. Laurens says nothing. He does nothing. He just stares at the back of Hamilton's head as he locks the door. 

He turns slowly, his gaze on Laurens has shifted. His pupils be blown wide as he looks Laurens up and down. His gaze is dark and thick with clear want, his lips parting slightly and his cheeks flushing. "I missed you, Jack." 

Laurens shifts under Hamilton's heavy stare, despising how his body has been set aflame by just the sound of Hamilton's voice. He is rendered speechless at the sight before him. 

Hamilton chuckles. "My, if I am not mistaken, my dear, I would say you are speechless." 

_Damn it all to hell._

Laurens schools his features. "It is not that," Laurens whispers. Hamilton takes pause, a curious brow lifting in anticipation. "I am grateful you have decided to take time out of your busy schedule to visit, but we cannot…" Laurens sighs. "You will stay in this room and I will stay in mine. You are just visiting as a friend. That is all." Laurens steps passed a baffled Hamilton, unlocking the door quickly. 

"John, wait," Hamilton says urgently, reaching out as Laurens opens the door. "What are you - what happened?" 

He yanks his arm from Hamilton's desperate grasp, glaring daggers at him. _"Enough._ I will be in the parlour if you need me." Laurens slams the door shut behind himself. 

He briskly makes his way through the hall, down the stairs, and into the parlour. He picks up the unfinished whiskey and takes a large gulp from it. He turns sloppily at the sound of a sharp intake of breath. 

Hamilton stares with concern in the doorway, nearly out of breath as he had clearly followed Laurens hastily down the stairs. "My God, Laurens. Are you okay?" 

Laurens lets out a short, hoarse laugh, laced with sarcasm. He picks up the bottle and pours a generous amount of whiskey into the glass tumbler. Hamilton startles at the sound of Laurens slamming the bottle back onto the table. 

"Laurens, I am worried about you," Hamilton says cautiously. 

Laurens' face has become a permanent scowl by this point. "I am not." He takes a sip. "You should not worry over me. You have someone else to worry over." He takes a larger sip, staring pointedly at Hamilton with narrowed eyes. 

Hamilton's features twist into one of clarity before melting into fury. "This is about Eliza." 

Laurens huffs out, his eyes twinkling with near-hysterics as he raises his glass in mock cheers before downing the rest of the alcohol. 

Hamilton marches into the parlour, reaching out for the glass. "Enough of this, John. You are acting the fool and I had only just arrived!" 

Laurens holds the glass high above his head, smirking darkly as Hamilton fails to reach. "Aye, sir. I have been drinking for months now. Do not charm yourself into believing I have only started now." 

"John, hand me the glass," Hamilton replies firmly, placing his hands on his hips. 

"Oh, you mean _this_ glass?" Laurens asks mockingly, waving it high above Hamilton's head. 

Hamilton gives up and walks around Laurens, heading straight for the bottle instead. "You have had enough." 

Laurens throws the glass past Hamilton's head, causing him to lock up in place as it shatters against the mantle. Hamilton stares at the pieces with wide eyes and Laurens uses the moment to his advantage, grabbing the bottle and stepping away. 

Hamilton cranes his neck and looks sorrowfully at Laurens. He stares back, suddenly feeling a wave of guilt rise up inside of himself. He carefully places the bottle on top of the cabinet beside him. Annie rushes in and Laurens waves at her, shaking his head. 

"I will clean it myself, Annie," Laurens whispers, his voice gravelly and deep. 

"I cannot let you do that, John," she replies with a firm look. "Not after what happened last week." 

Laurens rolls his eyes and Hamilton blinks with wide eyes. "Allow me to assist, you," Hamilton murmurs as she crouches to pick up the pieces. 

Laurens turns on his heel, leaving the room. Hamilton watches him leave gravely. 

### ~°•°•°~

Hamilton eats alone, dismissing Laurens' paid staff to leave after supper had been served. He does not mind having to clean the mess on his own, needing the mindless task to distract his wandering thoughts. He heats up the leftover food over the fire in the kitchen before replating it. He carefully brings it up the stairs and stares at the looming dark hallway. 

An orange glow from under Laurens' door is the only light he sees as he cautiously steps through the darkness. He balances the plate on his hand and knocks on the doorframe quietly. "Laurens? I have your supper." 

No response. Hamilton sighs and places the plate on the floor before standing up again. "I have left it in the hallway by the door." 

Nothing. 

Hamilton sighs and retires into his room for the night. 

A moment later, Laurens opens the door and stares at Hamilton's room across the hall longingly. He flickers his gaze to the food and picks it up, taking it inside with him and softly closing the door behind himself. 

### ~°•°•°~

The next day is painfully quiet. They do not speak much to each other, keeping their conversations light and cordial. 

Distance be not the only thing that tore them apart. It was each other. They bicker more than usual, Hamilton's irritating tone grating into Laurens everytime he so much as _breathes_ the wrong way. 

Laurens and Hamilton eat all three meals together that day in silence. The flame on the table burns; half its height now and spilling wax down the sides as if they be tears. Wax tears for an empty man, unable to speak to the one he loves. 

Laurens wishes to break the silence. 

He does not. 

### ~°•°•°~

Laurens sits at his desk an hour passed supper, reading over old letters with a lone candle burning; he hears the door creak open. He does not move as he hears the latch eventually click. He blinks slowly, placing the letter down with great care and stares vacantly at the table. He listens to the reluctant footsteps inching closer to him. 

"John," Hamilton whispers gingerly. "I am sorry." 

Laurens winces uncomfortably. He shakes his head, his lips curling downward. "You have nothing to apologize for. You have done nothing wrong." 

Hamilton stays behind Laurens. "I had not realized how bad this was becoming. I had wanted to see you sooner, but I see now that this was all brought on because of me." 

Laurens shifts quickly in his chair, glaring at Hamilton. "No. Tis only my own dark melancholy. You have done nothing wrong." He pauses, looking back to the letters sprawled on the desk, his hand stroking the smooth box that lay open. "It was your letters that kept me sane. I was overjoyed to hear you were finally coming to visit, but I had ruined it not ten minutes after you entered my father's home." 

Hamilton says nothing for a long time. Laurens turns to look at him after a while and is instantly at his feet when he sees the tears streaming down his cheeks. "My dear boy, no!" Laurens gasps, stepping forward and reaching out to Hamilton. He does not flinch away as Laurens wipes his tears with his thumbs. "Please, do not shed such tears." 

Hamilton wordlessly leans forward, resting his head against Laurens' chest. He instantly wraps his arms around Hamilton protectively, holding him close and burying his nose into his fiery hair. "I am so sorry, my darling," Laurens whispers into Hamilton's hair. 

Hamilton squeezes him in return, their embrace tighter than ever. "You know matrimony will change nothing, right?" Hamilton mumbles hoarsely into Laurens' chest. 

Laurens pulls back far enough to look into Hamilton's eyes searchingly. Hamilton frowns. "John?" 

Laurens sighs, looking away. "I apologize for my boorish reaction to your engagement. It is good you are to be wed. It will keep you from-" _me._

Hamilton shakes his head. "I expect no less from you, my dear, as I had been quite jealous to hear of _your_ marriage, if you recall." 

Laurens frowns at the memory. He looks to Hamilton solemnly, pulling away and taking a deliberate step back. "I wish you both good fortune and health in your marriage." 

Hamilton's frown deepens. "Are my words falling upon deaf ears? John, I still love you." 

"You shouldn't," Laurens replies in a deep voice. 

Hamilton scoffs, clearly irritated again. "You are insufferable. You are jealous I am to be wed to Eliza Schuyler and yet you congratulate me and act as if it be the best decision I have ever made?" 

"It is the best decision you have made," Laurens says simply with a light shrug. 

Hamilton steps forward and grabs the lapels of Laurens' waistcoat, growling with rage. He tugs Laurens to his level and crashes their lips together, their teeth clashing. Hamilton holds Laurens' waistcoat with an iron grip, tilting his head and deepning the kiss with burning passion. 

Laurens pulls away breathlessly, wiping the excess saliva connecting their lips sluggishly. "Alexander, we cannot-" he is cut off as Hamilton shoves him against the desk, pressing another ferverant kiss to his lips. 

Hamilton pulls back with a gasp. "Enough talking," Hamilton near growls, his voice dropping an octave. 

Laurens leans forward, capturing Hamilton's lips in response, having lost all of his reserves. Laurens pushes him backwards until the backs of Hamilton's legs bump into the bed. Hamilton drags Laurens with him into the bed, lying underneath Laurens with his legs on either side of Hamilton's hips. 

Laurens cages Hamilton's face between his arms before leaning down to connect their lips once again. Hamilton pants desperately as Laurens trails his kisses along his jawline, going _down down down_ until he reaches Hamilton's cravat. _This will simply not do._ Laurens leans back onto Hamilton's thighs as he fumbles with the cravat; Hamilton doing the same and removing Laurens' with deft fingers. 

They carelessly toss the fabrics to the floor and begin removing extra layers; pulling off waistcoats and unbuttioning shirts quickly. Hamilton captures Laurens' exposed neck with his swollen lips, biting and sucking hard on the collarbone. He smirks when he elicits a low moan from Laurens, tracing his lips to suck on another spot closer to his shoulder. 

Laurens involuntarily rolls his hips, sighing contentedly and raking his fingernails down Hamilton's back. Hamilton hums with content, kissing up Laurens' neck and sucking on that special spot behind his ear, earning a loud moan. 

Laurens slaps his hand over his mouth, squeezing his eyes shut in fear. Hamilton gingerly prys his hand from his face, causing Laurens' eyes to flutter open in puzzlement. "Nobody else is here," Hamilton consoles quietly. "We can be as loud as we desire…" 

Laurens smiles, feeling like quite the fool for simply forgetting that the house is empty after supper. "Aye, you are correct," Laurens whispers into Hamilton's ear. He revels when Hamilton involuntarily shivers. He presses a gentle kiss to Hamilton's jaw, sucking tenderly on the spot until Hamilton releases a high pitched moan. 

Laurens hums with satisfaction and pushes Hamilton down, following him to capture his lips as his head bounces on the pillow. Hamilton moans loudly into the kiss on purpose - just for the sake of doing so. Laurens cards his fingers through Hamilton's hair and pulls his head back to expose his neck. 

Laurens bites his collarbone and sucks on it, smiling proudly when Hamilton cries out in pure ecstasy. He trails his hands lower, chuckling lowly as Hamilton squirms under his featherlight fingers brushing down his sides. He untucks the hem of Hamilton's shirt and pulls it over his head smoothly as the man sits up to aid him in his endavour. Laurens carelessly tosses it to the floor and kisses his chest, basking in Hamilton's pleasure as he whines and wriggles under his wandering lips. 

"John," Hamilton whispers his name like a prayer. 

Laurens growls, tucking his fingers under the waistband of Hamilton's breeches. "Mine," Laurens grumbles deeply, looking up at Hamilton with a burning gaze. 

Hamilton looks to be an absolute wreck; his face and chest tinted pink, his eyelids hooded, and his pupils blown with lust. Laurens keeps his eyes on Hamilton as he kisses down his thigh, pointedly avoiding the tent in his breeches and smiling at Hamilton's frustrated groan. 

Laurens pulls Hamilton's stocking down and trails along his shin with his lips before languidly repeating the action with the other leg. Hamilton is a mess by the time Laurens crawls over him, further up the bed to meet his face, and leaning down to capture his lips again in a slow and sensual kiss. 

"Are you certain you cannot make it to our final consummation?" Hamilton says breathlessly after they part for air and Laurens frowns. 

"Are you seriously bringing light to this, now?" Laurens grumbles bitterly, his passion being replaced with resentment and irritation. 

Hamilton pouts, his eyes still laced with hunger. "What? Why not? I feel it could bring us closer," he replies cheekily. 

Laurens' frown deepens and he pushes himself off of Hamilton, leaning back onto Alexander's thighs as the mood has been tarnished for him. "I would think us being _alone_ would bring us closer together." 

Hamilton sits up slowly, holding onto Laurens' hips to keep him from shifting away entirely. "John, I was only teasing you, so." 

"Don't. Not about that," Laurens snaps. "Not when I have you beneath me in my bed." 

Hamilton ducks his head, looking up into Laurens' eyes seductively. "And what do you plan to do with me as I lay beneath you?" Hamilton asks huskily as he lays back, keeping his heavy gaze upon Laurens. 

Laurens flushes at what the sight does to him, igniting flames into his veins. He leans over Hamilton and presses his lips to his ear. "I will remind you who you belong to." 

Hamilton shivers, rolling his head back and moaning. Laurens grins and presses a kiss to Hamiton's jaw, trailing down to his neck, then to his chest, and working his way to his naval. Hamilton shifts under his touch, panting as Laurens kisses his hip, tugging the waistband down teasingly. 

Hamilton whines in frustration as Laurens refuses to pull his breeches off, opting to kiss down his legs leisurely again. "Jack," Hamilton moans softly. 

"Hmm?" Laurens hums with feigned innocence, grinning as he continues to avoid the spot Hamilton desires for him to touch. 

"Do not tease me, so!" Hamilton groans with a pout. 

"How do I tease you?" Laurens asks with feigned confusion before carefully leaning forward and rubbing his hands up Hamilton's thighs and over on either side of the tent in his breeches. 

Hamilton sighs loudly, squeezing his eyes shut, and his mouth hanging open. He laughs dryly. "Oh, fuck you!" 

Laurens chuckles as he sits up again. "This is what happens to those who misbehave and tease the one pleasuring them." 

Hamilton gasps in mock offence. Laurens smiles slyly before bending over and pressing a kiss on his neglected target, causing Hamilton to throw his head back and yell out in ecstasy. "Oh, fuck!" Hamilton yelps before biting his fist. 

Laurens reaches up and slaps his wrist away. "No. Do not restrain yourself. I want to hear you." 

Hamilton whimpers, fluttering his eyes closed as his flush darkens. Laurens grabs the waistband of Hamilton's breeches and pulls them down 

…...oh……..so...….slowly…... 

Hamilton whines and kicks them off as they reach his ankles, causing a chuckle to escape deep from Laurens' chest. "John, please," Hamilton whispers breathlessly. "I cannot wait any longer." 

Laurens rolls his eyes fondly, leaning back on his heels as he removes his shirt, feeling far too constricted in his clothes. Hamilton watches Laurens strip himself deliberately slow, his gaze burning with starvation by this point. Laurens tosses his shirt and removes his stockings one by one, tossing them to the floor as well. He pulls his breeches off with a deep blush, watching Hamilton stare at him with great intensity. 

Laurens tosses his breeches to the floor and crawls over Hamilton, both of them breathing deeply with desire. Laurens presses a sweet, gentle kiss to Hamilton's lips, smiling into it. "I missed you," Laurens whispers against his lips. "I think about you every night, in this bed. Longing for your touch again." 

Hamilton wordlessly brushes Laurens' loose hair out of his face. "I think about you constantly as well, my dear." 

Laurens presses another kiss onto Hamilton's lips as he shifts his hips, reaching down to position himself carefully. Hamilton's moan is long and loud and Laurens hums, satisfied that they may finally share such intimacies without worrying about being heard by others. "I love you," Laurens whispers into Hamilton's lips breathlessly. 

"And I--ahhhhuuhhh," Hamilton rolls his head back, sighing loudly and grabbing Laurens' hips with a bruising grip. 

They drown in each other's passion, unafraid of being heard. They move in tandem together, mingling as one. All woes are forgotten for this blissful moment. There be no world beyond this room; Hamilton's love letters scattered haphazardly upon the desk with the lone candle near dwindling by this point. 

The windows separating them from the brisk November air fogs up, the curtains drawn and the latches locked so not a peep from inside the home may carry beyond its walls. Clothes tangled and strewn about along the floor as if a puzzle board had been flipped; the pieces telling a story. A story of love, longing, and passion. 

No longer are they lying upon scratchy sheets of wool and cotton, but of silk and linen. The mattress is large and soft, the posts firm and steady. They bask in the comfort and privacy for tonight; straining the springs of the bed, scrapping the hardwood floor, and denting the drywall behind the bedframe as they lose themselves in their passion. Laurens' uniform continues to collect dust in the trunk at the head of the bed. The trunk groans on the floor and shifts as the bed shakes with their rhythmic thrusting. 

They mumble nonsense and obscenities into each other's skin like prayers, occasionally declaring _'mine'_ and _'I love you'_ interchangeably to drill the truth into each other's minds. They whisper in French and English, praising each other and encouraging - _begging -_ for more _more **more!**_

Alexander cries noisily as he reaches euphoria. He stays with Laurens, urging him to teeter over the edge with a swift hand. Laurens pants frantically, bowing his head upon Hamilton's shoulder as his rolling hips become sporadic. Faster _faster **faster!**_

Laurens sees stars, throwing his head back as he sobs loudly in pleasure. He collapses onto Alexander, tucking his head into his lover's shoulder affectionately. He rolls over onto his side, laughing in bliss with Hamilton as they ride along their high together. 

Sated and spent, they lay beside each other, breathing heavily like they nearly drowned. Hamilton runs his fingers gently up and down Laurens' firm arm, his sweat-coated skin protruding gooseflesh from the minuscule action causing grand sparks to tingle in his blood. Their chests rise and fall as they lay together, utterly breathless. 

"Remember when I had discovered your wife?" Hamilton breathes out nonchalantly; the strange question drags Laurens from his post-coital high. 

"Uh, yes?" Laurens responds carefully, somewhat baffled. Hamilton looks up from Laurens' lips into his eyes, his hair having been released from its queue during their _activities,_ leaving his firey hair to halo around his face upon the soft pillow. 

"I told you I would marry you if it were legal to do so," Hamilton whispers in a deep, sated tone. He sounds content, at peace, for saying something so monumentally life-changing to Laurens. 

"Aye. You did," Laurens replies slowly, his eyes narrowing slightly. 

"I still would," Hamilton declares in a gentle voice. "I would marry you if I could." 

Laurens' heart thuds loudly in his chest, feeling as if he be bursting at the seams. "You do not mean this," Laurens says in a gravely tone. "You only speak out of post-bliss, my dear boy." 

Hamilton shakes his head. "Do not assume something so foolish, John. I love you and I mean what I say. I would marry you." Hamilton's lips quirk downward into a slightly offended frown. 

Laurens scoffs, turning over so Hamilton's hand drags to his chest and his eyes rest upon the intricate detailing of the ceiling. Alexander flattens his palm there and frowns at John's thundering heartbeat. "That is a dangerous thing to say," Laurens mutters with a side-eyed glance at Hamilton. 

Hamilton traces patterns into his chest with his index finger. "Aye, it is." Hamilton pauses. "But so is fucking each other senseless in your father's Philadelphia home," Hamilton quips with a raised brow. 

Laurens groans uncomfortably, rubbing his forehead stressfully. "Christ!" He hisses between his teeth and Hamilton chuckles proudly. 

Hamilton leans over Laurens and smiles down at him. Laurens lowers his arm to capture Hamilton's wandering hand dancing shapes into his chest. "Would you do it?" Hamilton whispers. 

Laurens frowns in confusion. "Would I do what?" 

"Would you marry me?" Hamilton asks with wide, uncertain eyes. Laurens' breath hitches and he tightens his grip on Hamilton's hand. "If it were legal and we both were not bound to others by matrimony already, would you marry me?" Hamilton asks firmly, his features neutralized. 

Laurens thinks solely about the throbbing pain of his wrapped up hand. He thinks of his time confined to Philadelphia. He ponders over the endless days of drowning in whiskey and melancholy, wishing for it all to just _end._ He had smashed the first glass tumbler a week prior to this eve, staring at the shards for a long time, and having been saved by Annie before his choice to pick up a shard had become irreversible. Laurens flexes the binded hand, the dull pain a reminder of what he had almost lost. His eyes water and for the first time in weeks, he finally cries. 

He pulls his hands to his face, sobbing quietly. His shoulders shake violently as he curls closer to Hamilton, sighing as his red-haired beauty slides his arms around his trembling frame, holding him close, comforting him soothingly. 

Laurens worries his lip between his teeth, wiping his eyes and willing his body to stop. He breathes for a moment, thinking about this fantasy Hamilton had painted with his simple words. A world where they do not have to hide behind walls. A world where they may take the other's name or share a new one. A world where they can have a family together, just him and Alexander. 

"I do," Laurens whispers into Hamilton's skin by his shoulder. He sniffles and pulls back to look at him properly. "I do, Alexander." 

Hamilton melts with affection. Laurens had used present tense in his response. No hypothetical. No room for misunderstanding. Just the pure, raw truth. Hamilton pulls Laurens into a sweet and gentle kiss. They melt into one another and smile like school children. 

"I do," Hamilton murmurs against his lips. "I, Alexander Hamilton, desire to take you as my husband." He presses a firm kiss to his lips. 

Laurens breaks off their kiss to laugh, blushing furiously. He ducks his head into Hamilton's neck, giggling like a young lovestruck boy. "Forever to hold, in sickness and in health. For rich or for poor…" Hamilton adds in a low murmur against Laurens' hair. "Until death do us apart, so help me god." 

Laurens gazes into Hamilton's deep violet eyes. "I wish to have your name," he confesses boldly. Now Hamilton is the one flushing madly, chewing his lip. "John Hamilton. I do quite enjoy the sound of that." 

Hamilton curls inwards, his blush darkening into a new adorable hue of crimson. He laughs, rubbing his cheek awkwardly. "I would like to have both," Hamilton admits. "John Laurens-Hamilton and Alexander Laurens-Hamilton. With a hyphen in the middle." 

Laurens smiles giddily. "Fine. I am willing to compromise." 

"How thoughtful of you," Hamilton replies teasingly. 

A cloud looms over Laurens, haunting the back of his mind as he leans over to playfully peck kisses all over Hamilton. He laughs and kicks in a feigned disposition, his beautiful laughter fading into an echoing sinister cackle from the cloud of melancholy. Laurens cherishes this moment in this room but is reminded by the cloud that this will not last. 

Laurens has a wife and child tucked away in London, patiently awaiting his return. Hamilton is to be wed in a few weeks to Elizabeth Schuyler. But in this room, Martha Manning Laurens and Elizabeth Schuyler Hamilton do not exist. They be comfortable in their domestic fantasy, unwilling to shatter the illusion like the tumbler filled with whiskey. 

The dwindling flame on the desk of love letters flickers dangerously, nearing its life's end. The end of a burning flame is inevitable. It is only a matter of time. 

**Author's Note:**

> And I oop 👀
> 
> I was so nervous to post this one because it is my first ever attempt at writing smut in a fanfic. I have _implied_ the devil's tango before at times, but this is the most detail I have ever written for it (and some might argue that this is fairly tame as it is not explicitly graphic.)
> 
> I figured that since I was challenging myself to write these prompts every day, I would also challenge myself by writing something I am not usually comfortable with.
> 
> I am ace and have no gosh darn clue of what I am doing. 🤷♀️


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